Endings, Beginnings, and Understandings
by fbeauchamphartz
Summary: Barry waits for Len to talk to him about the kisses they shared, the things Len said, and what it might mean. But two weeks go by, and the only thing Len does is avoid Barry like the plague. Barry goes to Len's house and ends up having a heart to heart with Lisa about her brother, and why, in the case of Barry, he's not going after what he wants. Follows The Virgin Roundup.


**A/N:** **Totally a high school AU. Warnings for angst, and a minor mention of child abuse.** **Part three of Would You, Could You.**

Len and Barry drop their heads and move out of view of the street when the police cars drive by. Barry waited about ten minutes after they left the party before he called Joe. He hated not just jumping on it right out the door, but they had no choice. They both agreed it would look kind of suspicious if they left and then suddenly the cops showed. As fortune would have it, someone started blasting music right as Barry and Len headed down the stairs, so the police arriving isn't really a stretch. Barry's phone call simply sped up the inevitable. Still, they don't want anyone leaving the party connecting them to the arrival of law enforcement. But they also don't want any of Joe's friends on the force recognizing Barry and pulling over to offer him a ride. Without agreeing to it verbally, both Len and Barry decide that they want this walk home together…alone.

It's not that far from the house they left to the West House, but Len leads them down the long way, so Barry assumes they're going to have that talk Len promised. As they travel along the darkened sidewalks, they barely walk within a foot of each other. Barry's gaze alternates between looking where they're going and taking peeks at Len's face, while Len's eyes stare straight ahead, in the direction they're headed, but without quite paying attention to where they're going, his mind wandering a dozen different places, none of which he seems too eager to divulge. They walk in complete silence the entire way, with Barry unable to figure out how to start the conversation, and Len seeming unwilling to.

"So, uh, here's your place," Len says, escorting Barry to the foot of the steps.

Barry nods at the familiar green house standing in front of him, waiting to welcome him in. "You know, I thought this walk home would contain a lot more…you know…talking."

"Look," Len sighs, "I said we'll talk, and we will. I just…I need to get home before the shit hits the fan, alright?"

"Sure," Barry says. "Alright."

Len looks at Barry – his puppy dog eyes, his disappointment, his overall confusion. He has to admit that he's contributed to most of it. He grabs Barry's elbow and leads him behind the tree at the foot of the stairs, outside the circle of the porch light above. He puts a hand to the back of Barry's neck and pulls him close. He kisses Barry without saying a word, without asking for permission. This kiss isn't as charged as the others, but it's just as passionate. It's slow and soft, tender and sweet.

It's goodbye…for now.

"I'll see you around, Barry," Len says, punching Barry lightly on the shoulder.

"Yeah," Barry says, watching Len walk over the lawn of freshly cut grass, turning at the end toward home. "See ya."

* * *

Len doesn't come over to the West House all weekend, which is rare, but also unsettling. Since they've been friends, Len's spent at least Saturday afternoons commandeering Barry's bed, mostly to sit and read in silence while Barry finishes his homework.

Sometimes, he brings Lisa with him when they're trying to stay out of their dad's way.

But Barry doesn't see him Saturday or Sunday. He doesn't return Barry's texts, and he doesn't call. Even Lisa seems incommunicado. Barry forces himself not to go over to their place, not to tell Joe that he's worried…or why.

Len had made Barry swear on his life that he wouldn't tell Joe about his father's abuse. Len never went into exactly why, but Barry suspects it has something to do with Lisa, being separated from Lisa, Lisa ending up in a situation worse than the one they're in, one he can't protect her from because he wouldn't be around. Len always told Barry that he can handle his father, and up till now, he has. Barry's terrified of the day when Len might be wrong.

If they're having it out with their dad, Barry or Joe showing up will only make things worse.

When Barry sees Len again, it's at school Monday, and he's sporting a painful looking black eye. Barry doesn't know if he got it from his father, or from Mitchell, or someone else on the wrestling team. Barry doesn't know because Len refuses to talk to him. Not directly. He doesn't tell Barry that he's not talking to him, and he doesn't outright ignore him. He simply makes it his life's mission to never find himself alone with, or even in the general vicinity of, Barry Allen.

They manage to go over a week without saying more than three words in a row to one another. Len mutters, "Excuse me," once when he accidentally rounds a corner and collides head first with Barry, who was trying to cut Len off before he got to Math, and then, "Bye," when Barry races after him down the hallway and Len ducks into Spanish. Every day, Barry tries to corner Len in the hall, or catch him outside, but with no luck. Barry calling out to him is met with Len's back turned. Most days, Len won't even look at him. Barry thought that Len would come to him eventually to bring up the issue of the money he owes him, but it seems like Len's willing to declare that hundred-and-fifty bucks a wash if it means not having to talk to him.

The following Friday, after two straight weeks of playing The Evade Game, Barry finds Len, sitting alone in an alcove behind the library, bent over several open texts, furiously scribbling into a worn notebook. Barry doesn't call out to him, doesn't alert him to his presence, pouncing before Len has a chance to gather up his stuff and run away.

"Hey, Len," Barry says, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible with his heart wedged between his vocal cords.

Len's head snaps up. He sees Barry approach, and his eyes widen.

"Hey, Bare," Len says, stuffing his books and papers into his bag like he just remembered that he's late for a…something. "What can I do you for?"

"Well, I've been trying to talk to you," Barry says, pointing it out like it hasn't been obvious. "Because, you know, you promised we'd talk and we haven't talked yet…"

"I know" – Len stands, hastily slipping his bag strap over his shoulder. His bag slips, and a few odd pencils and a book tumble out. He looks like he might say _fuck it_ and leave them, but on second thought, he bends down quickly to pick them up – "I've just been, like, really busy with practice and homework and whatnot."

"Oh, okay," Barry says, acting like that explains everything even though he doesn't buy that excuse. But, benefit of the doubt. He's not here to call Len out on a white lie.

"Is there something you need, Allen?" Len asks, fumbling less with his stuff now that he's got most of it in his bag.

"I've been trying to pay you back. The money from the party?" Barry clarifies when Len shoots him a befuddled look. "I thought…you know…if you stopped by my house after school, I could give it to you. Maybe we could even walk together?"

"Oh…you know what?" Len double checks that the zipper on his bag is secure, then throws the strap over his shoulder. "Just…bring it by my house this afternoon? That would be a big help."

"Yeah," Barry says, a smidgen of hope blossoming in his chest. It's not walking home together, but he'll take an invitation to Len's house. "Yeah, I'll do that."

"Great," Len says, stuffing his hands in his jean pockets, looking so uncomfortable, he might bolt. "That'll be…great. Thanks. Bye, Barry." He nods in lieu of a wave or a handshake, then turns smoothly and walks away.

* * *

As excited as Barry is about being invited over, he never did like hanging at Len's house.

Len's dad would be the conspicuous reason for Barry's aversion, but he's not the only reason.

It's because their house seems so God dammed normal. There's nothing about it that would tip anyone off to what goes on inside. It's not like Len's dad lets the house get rundown or wallow in disrepair. It's not like the grass outside isn't green, and mowed every weekend the same as the neighbor's lawns, or the rose bushes don't get pruned, because they do – almost obsessively. If a person stood in front of the West House, with the Snart House next door, they might look like a matched set.

The only difference between the two – the difference no one ever sees – is what goes on behind its locked doors and carefully painted shutters.

Barry takes the steps up to the porch slowly, his heart pounding in his chest, ready to break free any second, so loud that he doesn't catch the door unlock until it swings open and Lisa appears, filling the space between the door and the frame, making it apparent that she's not about to invite him in.

"Hey, Lisa," Barry says, his enthusiasm overshadowed but his heart not slowing a beat. "I came to give Len something."

"Yeah," Lisa says, leaning against the door frame, looking down at Barry standing a step below her, "he said you might be by."

Barry's smile fades. "So, he's…not here?"

"Nah," Lisa says, eyes shifting left and right subconsciously. "He had plans. Kinda last minute."

"Oh," Barry says, more than a little hurt, but what did he expect? He should have gotten the hint a week ago. "Well, here." Barry takes a step up and holds his hand out to Lisa. "Here's what I owe him. Please make sure he gets it? I know it's important to him." Barry steps back down the stair behind him. "Tell him it's all there" - he points at the money in her hand - "plus a little extra. You know, for all the crap he went through."

"I will," Lisa says with an appreciative smile on her brother's behalf.

"Okay" - Barry takes another step down, eyes flicking up to Len's bedroom window – "I'm gonna go."

He turns to walk away, but Lisa calls out, "You know, Len really likes you."

"Yeah?" Barry chuckles dryly, turning back. "He has a weird way of showing it."

"Well, look at it from his point of view," Lisa argues. "Do you think this is easy for him?"

"Do you think this is easy for me?" Barry fires back with an indignant chuckle. "I have just as much on the line as he does by officially…" Barry hops up the few steps to the porch and drops his voice so no one nearby will overhear "…coming out."

"Pardon me," Lisa says, "but no. No, you don't."

Barry frowns. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, _your_ stock goes up considerably by dating _my_ brother, nerd boy Barry Allen. But Len has a reputation. One that will take a severe nosedive by not only coming out, but by dating _you_."

"Gee," Barry says, offended, "thanks."

"You have lots of support, Barry," Lisa continues, stopping Barry before he can stalk off. "People in your corner, ready to leap to your defense, my brother included. But Len" – she shakes her head – "his reputation, and me, that's pretty much it. Plus my dad, he'd…" Lisa stops and shudders, chewing on her cheek as her eyes sweep around, ensuring the man in question is nowhere around. "He'd probably hide the hell out of Len if he found out his son was…"

"Gay?"

"I think the term Len prefers is pan," Lisa scoffs. "Sheesh, Allen. How much did you know about my brother before you got all high and mighty about his sexuality?"

"Honestly" – Barry's shoulders slump – "I don't feel like I know him at all."

Lisa sighs, and Barry gets the feeling this conversation isn't going in the direction she wanted it to.

"Look, Barry," she starts over, "your life sucks. Nobody's debating that. I mean, what you've been through, I wouldn't wish that on anyone. But as far as the whole heartbreak roulette goes, you broke the bank. You had a mom and dad who loved you, you _still_ have a dad who loves you. And after stuff went south - boom! You got dropped right into another family that loves you…unconditionally. Joe treats you like a son, and Iris – you got yourself an instant sister. Most people in the world won't ever get that lucky. Some people - they just get stuck with the lot they spin." Lisa's gaze drops to her feet. She takes a deep breath in and lets it out, equally exhausted as frustrated by this situation. But after her shoulders relax a bit, she looks back at him with a small smile. "You're a good guy, Barry…"

"That's the general consensus," Barry says with a healthy dollop of sarcasm.

"Don't you think Len wants to hook up with a good guy?" Lisa butts in. "But getting the good guy means maybe losing the good guy. He doesn't want that, and he doesn't deserve it…not after all he's been through."

Barry's taken back by the passion in her statement. He can't think of a single other thing to say – no more arguments, no more self-pitying statements. With everything that's happened to him, sometimes he does overlook his good fortune, take it for granted, forget that even with his mom murdered and his dad in prison, all of which have been hell for him, other people have a hell they're living in, too.

"I promise I'll remember that if he ever talks to me again."

"He will," Lisa reassures him. "You're his friend, and to tell you the truth, he doesn't have a lot of those."

"He doesn't seem like the kind of guy who _needs_ a lot of those."

"True," Lisa says with a one shoulder shrug, "but that doesn't mean he doesn't need _one_."

Barry waves, his eyes once again seeking that empty window up above, hoping for a face, and then heads off down the stairs. Lisa watches Barry reach the sidewalk before she closes the front door. She climbs up the stairs to the second level with Len's money in her grasp. She reaches the first door at the top and knocks.

"Come in."

She opens the door and walks in, shutting and locking it behind her.

"Well?" Len asks from where he sits on his bed. He watches his sister walk toward him, a little stiff and little distant, not entirely pleased with her older brother. "How'd it go?"

"Here." Lisa tosses the neatly folded clutch of twenties into her brother's lap. "He says it's all there."

Len picks up the wad of cash, unfolds it, and starts counting, impressed by the fact that they're all crisp, new bills. From the very top edge of his vision, he sees his sister watching him, arms crossed over her chest, wearing an expression that straddles a boundary between concern and disappointment.

"What?" Len asks, not looking up from his counting.

"I think you kinda punked out by not answering the door yourself," Lisa says. "I mean, I thought you liked him."

Len gets to the last bill and sighs. He worries it between his fingers, thumbing over the serial number.

"What do you think, Lees?"

"I don't know," she says, climbing on the bed and sitting beside her brother, watching him carefully fold the bills on the creases and sticking the whole bundle into his front pocket. "I think you should give him a chance. I mean, maybe he'd be ok with keeping your relationship on the d.l., this way you don't catch grief at school. He seems cool like that."

"But that's kind of a dick move on my part, isn't it?" Len says, half statement, half question.

Lisa scoffs. "Like that's ever mattered to you before."

"If it was ever going to matter, shouldn't it matter now?"

"I guess," Lisa says, looking at Len through long lashes. "I think you've got to weigh the pros and cons of giving him a chance against watching him get together with someone else."

Len nods, Lisa's comment making up part of his mind. "He's got Iris…sort of. And they're good together, you know? Both sort of cut from the same cloth. No reason to mess that up for him."

"Sure," Lisa agrees, "but what about you?"

"What _about_ me?"

"Don't you deserve a chance?"

"Meh," Len answers, in no mood to argue with his tenacious sibling.

"Come on, Len," Lisa groans. "You've had a crush on this kid forever! And by the way, why Barry Allen, huh? I mean, he's nice enough, but you used to shake down guys like him for lunch money. All of a sudden, you're stuck on one?"

"It'd be kind of stupid of me to steal anything from him, dontcha think?" he asks, avoiding the real issue. "Considering he lives with a cop?"

"Yeah, right," Lisa laughs. "What about that dumb prick Sebastian you were always swiping a wallet off of? His dad was a state's attorney. He could have locked you up for life, but you had that kid scared shitless."

Len chuckles at that memory. Sebastian _was_ a dumb prick – entitled, stuck up, such an ass. Everything Barry's not. Len lets the subject of Sebastian and his hotshot lawyer dad die with that one chuckle, which only further irritates Lisa. She's tired of seeing her brother suffer when happiness – even temporary happiness – lives just a few blocks away.

"You know what they say" - Lisa leans her head against Len's shoulder - "it's better to have loved and lost and blah-blah-blah."

"You think so?" Len rests his head over his sister's. "Well, you give it a shot, and then tell me how that turns out for you."

* * *

"What is the empirical formula of a compound containing 60% sulfur and 40% oxygen by mass?"

Barry jots down an answer, not really thinking about the question. This is chemistry. He doesn't have to think about it. Balancing equations and figuring out formulas are as easy to him as breathing.

Math and science. If only everything in his life could be as simple.

"A compound is found to contain 23.3% magnesium, 30.7% sulfur, and 46% oxygen. What is the empirical formula of this compound?"

 _Knock-knock._ "Barry!"

"Just one minute," Barry answers offhand, not fully comprehending exactly whose voice that is or where it's coming from. "I just have one more…What is the empirical formula for a compound containing 38.8% carbon, 16.2% hydrogen, and 45.1% nitrogen?"

 _Knock-knock-knock._

"Barry! Barry Allen! Hey! Open the damn window! I don't want to slip and break my frickin' neck!"

Barry looks up from his book, then around his room, eyes landing on his window last, finding it inconceivable that anyone would be out there, and _how the fuck!?_

But in whatever way or form Leonard Snart manages to defy gravity, there he is, outside Barry's bedroom window.

"Oh! Hey!" Barry shoots up from his desk chair, racing to let Len in before he falls and ends up a smudge on the lawn.

"Thanks," Len says, grabbing Barry's arm and climbing inside. Barry peeks out the window after Len's completely in, still perplexed as to how he managed it.

Apparently math and science aren't the simple concepts Barry thought they were.

Welp, there he goes. His whole life is a lie.

Barry closes the window, shutting the blinds for an extra measure of privacy. He turns to see Len standing behind him, dressed in blue jeans and a green Henley, the shiner underneath his eye only a beige shadow.

"Hey," Len says, raising his hand in an awkward _hello_.

"Hey," Barry says back. "So, you finally decided to stop avoiding me, huh?" He smirks at the thought of Len parkouring up to his window as his subtle sign that he's ready to talk to Barry again.

Evidently, the front door was a more harrowing prospect.

"Look, I know you want me to say I'm sorry, but I can't," Len says. "I had…reasons."

"I know," Barry says. "And, I get it."

"Barry…"

"No, I do," Barry insists sadly, certain that Len's here to explain why they can't be together, can't even be friends, and Barry wants to save him the trouble. He doesn't think he can hear Len say it. "I get it."

"No, Barry," Len says, "you don't get it. I…"

"Look," Barry cuts him short again, "you're my friend, and I don't want to make things difficult on you, so… _mmf_!"

Len's lips on his silence him. It's a brief kiss, but it makes Barry's whole body spark like a firework.

"Could you…shut up for five seconds," Len asks, pulling away slowly, "so I can talk? I have something I wanna say. Sort of a proposition."

Barry nods. "Then tell me," he says.

Len's mouth pulls up in the corner at having his own words thrown back at him. "I can't…we can't be together at school. I mean, we can be friends, like we were before, but we can't…you know… _hold hands_ " – he grimaces – "or anything like that."

Barry's mouth drops open. This isn't the direction he thought this conversation was headed.

"I…I understand," Barry says, and this time, he does…mostly. The important thing is he understands _why_ , and he doesn't care. Holding hands and PDA mean nothing to Barry.

But Len...he means _something_.

"But," Len says, glancing down at Barry's hands, negotiating in his head over whether he should take them, "you can have me in the evenings, and on weekends, if that's still what you want."

Barry's head feels light, like he's a mile above ground, floating through space, witnessing the impossible.

"I can have you?" Barry repeats.

Len's half smile transforms into a full blown smirk. He rolls his eyes, but they return immediately to Barry's face.

"Yeah," he says. "You can have me."

Then he returns to Barry's mouth for another kiss.


End file.
